The Lost Medallion: Return to the Past
by Crescent Moon Dancer
Summary: It has been one year since Billy and Allie returned to their own time and the lost medallion was uncovered. But when they find a message - a plea for help - written in the back of Mohea's journal, they must steal the medallion from the museum and venture once more into the past to save their friends and defeat a resurrected Cobra once and for all. Sequel to the story by Bill Muir
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: Come on, do you _really_ think that if I owned The Lost Medallion, I would be writing pathetic fanfictions/sequels of it? Wouldn't I be making another epic movie? Yes, yes I would be, and no, no I don't own TLM.**

* * *

Sand grated harshly under the keel of the boat as it was pulled onto the beach. A tall man, wrapped in a dark hooded robe, stepped out onto the damp ground, ignoring the sharp-edged shells crunching under his bare feet. His eyes, black and cold as those of a poisonous snake, swept the area, but the long stretch of sand and water was deserted, save for the two men still crouched fearfully in the boat.

"You will wait here," he commanded them. His voice was shockingly level-sounding, with a soft island accent; nevertheless, there lurked beneath it a strong vein of danger. "No matter what happens or how long it takes, you will wait here for my return."

He vanished into the night, silent as a shadow of Death stealing up the African beach. The two men looked at each other, fearing the return of their master, but knowing better than to leave without permission. No man or woman defied the orders of Cobra and lived!

* * *

Cobra stared expressionlessly down at the man hunched over on the floor of the hut. "You know what I seek, and why," he said. It was a statement, not a question. "I believe you know where it is." The man grinned up at him derisively, picking his teeth with a grubby nail.

"You're after the medallion again, aren't you?" he said. "Didn't work for you before, no, it didn't work. Just like I told you it wouldn't. Then you tried to destroy it, and you were defeated by a mere boy. Now you want it back. But it still won't work." The warlord dipped his chin slightly, staring at the man with dangerous, glittering eyes. The man ignored him.

"I did not come to bandy gossip about what is past," Cobra said, biting the words out with angry enunciation. "You know why I came to you; you know what I require. You will help me find the medallion, and you will reverse it's power. Refuse," his fingers tensed beneath his robe, "and I will destroy you."

His host looked unimpressed. "You may cow the people of your ocean islands, but your inclination to the dramatic has little influence here," he said tartly. "No matter. I will come." He tossed a couple of bones onto the floor, noting their positions in relation to the sticks, shells, and rocks already scattered about. "I confess to a certain curiosity about this medallion," he went on, gathering up the bones and tossing them again. "And even as to how you will use it." He cut a sideways glance at Cobra, who looked like he was chewing on the rocks scattered around the floor.

"Sometimes it is risky to let one's curiosity run unchecked, witch," he said coldly, his inscrutable black eyes boring into the others'. The witch doctor smiled, though his own eyes were like chips of dark ice.

"And sometimes it is risky to meddle with power, particularly when you have no idea what you're getting into," he returned with sickening amiability. "Have a care, _King Cobra._ Perhaps it would benefit you to let me be curious." They held each others' gaze for several moments, then the witch doctor bared his cracked teeth in an ugly grin. "We leave at first light tomorrow," he said softly.

The dark-robed figure swept out of the hut, rigid with anger, the unpleasant laughter of his new cohort following him out the door.


	2. Prisoners

_The waterfall fell in majestic torrents, the spray billowing out like a curtain of diamonds, and the golden sunlight shining through it sent rainbows dancing into the air. A soft wind blew across the surface of the water, sending ripples racing across it to disappear against the bank. Peace and serenity joined together, and beauty reigned supreme over the place._

A shadow fell across the page, and Mohea stopped writing, glancing up at the young man standing behind her. "You're in my light."

Huko grinned and sat beside her, tugging the journal out of her hands and peering down at it curiously. "What's this?" he inquired, scanning the lines of beautiful handwriting. "'Peace and serenity joined together, and beauty reigned supreme-'"

"Give it back!" The island girl snatched her book back as the young king laughed.

"Poetry?" Huko said in incredulous delight. "You're writing _poetry?_ " Mohea blushed and scowled at him, trying to hide her own smile.

"He said I would, you know. He was so sure." She gave the king a gentle nudge. "I couldn't let him down." Huko smiled. He didn't have to ask who 'he' was; he already knew.

"You've your whole life ahead of you to write, Mohea. Years to organize your thoughts and polish your compositions to perfection. But," he heaved an exaggeratedly soulful sigh, "since it was Billy who said it, you simply had to start right away, and-"

"Oh, stop it!" Flushing an attractive shade of scarlet, Mohea gave him a shove, sending the laughing boy sprawling on the bank. "Just because I thanked him for returning the medallion to our people-!"

"You thanked him at great length, with unnecessary aplomb," Huko said, sitting up with a grin. "And you brought him a bouquet of flowers. That seems like a pretty thorough way of saying 'thank you' to me."

A great deal of water hit him in the face, droplets pattering down around him like his own private rain shower and soaking his mop of brown curls. Spluttering, he wiped water out of his eyes and stared askance at Mohea, who glared levelly back and wiped her hand on her sunset-orange skirt.

"You can't splash me, I'm the king!"

"Then start acting like a king and not like a child!" she retorted, resisting the not-at-all childish urge to stick her tongue out. Huko tilted his head, a faint grin tugging at one corner of his mouth.

"And if I don't, what then? You'll start acting like a queen?" The girl lowered her eyes, knotting her fingers in her lap.

"I'm sorry, Your Highness," she said, her voice low but firm. "I did what I felt had to be done. The people were looking to you." The young king rubbed her back reassuringly.

"I know," he said quietly. "I just wish it hadn't been necessary for you to do that." He sighed, propping his chin on his fist and staring at the cascading torrent of water before them as it plunged ceaselessly over the cliff. "Sometimes I am afraid...that I will never be like my father."

Mohea placed her slim, brown hand over his where it rested on the mossy ground. "You don't have to try to be your father," she told him gently. "Just do your best to be a good king - that's all anyone could ask of you. You're King Huko, not King Kieli. Although," she smiled into his brown eyes, "if it's any comfort, you _are_ growing to be like him, more each day." One corner of Huko's mouth lifted slightly in a half smile.

"Thank you, Mohea," he said. "Those words mean a lot to me." The beautiful girl returned his smile, her eyes twinkling with a gentle, teasing light.

"You remember them now," she said with mock seriousness, "and don't make me have to go all stand-in monarch again." Huko blew an exasperated sigh.

"Will you just _stop_ with that now?" he pleaded. "I get it - forget king, I was a sorry excuse for a human being. I was arrogant, power-hungry, hasty, selfish, despairing, weak-willed, and all around hopeless." He glared at his friend, who was almost literally rolling with laughter. "Happy now?"

"Yes, quite," Mohea responded with cheerful disrespect. The king scowled at her.

"At least I wasn't a besotted sap," he remarked with a hint of smugness. The girl blushed.

"I was not besotted!" she refuted, almost pouting. "Besides, you seemed _quite_ fond of Allie," she added slyly.

"I was," Huko said unblushingly. "But at least I don't write gushy poetry about her."

This remark earned him another splash of water in the face, which sparked an all-out water war between the two friends. It was a perfect scene of happiness, the two teenaged islanders frolicking in the bright sunshine.

* * *

Mud spattered against rocks and tree trunks, dead leaves scattered across the jungle floor, and vines were set swaying by the rushing breeze. The scout pelted along, head thrown back and gasping for air, ignoring the branches that whipped at his face. His bare foot hit a patch of loam and he slipped, landing flat on his back with a grunt. Scrambling to his feet, he took off again, ignoring the weariness that gnawed at his protesting muscles. He had to find the king.

He had to!

* * *

The two young people lay stretched out on the bank of the lake, letting the sun dry them. They'd been soaked to the skin, but even just a few minutes in the strong, tropical rays had them mostly dried out, although the humidity wasn't helping. They lay side by side in peaceful laziness, until Mohea finally broke the silence.

"Do you suppose they ever think about us?" she asked thoughtfully.

Once again, Huko didn't even require elucidation. "Probably," he answered. "Such an adventure isn't easily forgotten." He turned his head to look at her, smirking slightly. "And I doubt Billy has forgotten the color of your eyes, or the softness of you hair..."

"Your Highness, I will backhand you in the face, I swear I will."

Huko chuckled and turned his face back to the sky again. "That's citing rebellion against your ruler."

"Live with it," Mohea said rudely, and the king heroically resisted the urge to thump her.

A few drops of mud spattered onto his face, and he sat bolt upright, scowling. "What was that for?" he demanded. The girl glanced at him, frowning.

"I didn't do anything."

"King Huko!" Both of them turned, startled, and watched as one of the village warriors dashed up to them, skidding to a halt and almost overbalancing into the water. Huko seized his tunic and steadied him.

"Kani, what is it?" he asked. "What's wrong?"

"My king..." Kani panted, desperately trying to regain his breath. "My king... He's back. He... He has returned."

Mohea got to her feet, watching them. Huko frowned, still holding up the scout, who was on the verge of collapse. "Who's back?" His heart leaped. "Billy?" Kani shook his head.

"Cobra." He whispered the name, as if the mere sound of it would make the jungle wither. Mohea gasped, her hands flying to her mouth, and all the color drained from the young king's face.

"Cobra... But how? How is this possible? He was destroyed!" He grabbed the warrior's shoulders, staring frantically at his face and giving him a tiny shake. "Are you sure? It couldn't be anyone else?" Kani shook his head again.

"There could be no mistake," he said, still panting slightly. "It was him." He raised his eyes, meeting his king's gaze. "He's demanding to see you. He wants the medallion again. He says.." Kani paused and swallowed hard. "He says he will burn the village if you do not give it to him."

Huko's fingers automatically closed over the amulet that hung around his neck, and his jaw clenched. "He knows he cannot use it," he said tightly. "Why would he want it?"

"To destroy it, maybe," Mohea offered. Her smooth brow was creased with worry, and bitter fear was boiling in her stomach. The horror of the last year was resurfacing in her mind, overwhelming her with images that she'd been doing her best to forget. Just the thought of the hot caves and forges beneath Cobra Island made sweat break out on her neck. "Huko, let's just give it to him. You said yourself, he cannot use it! He will burn the village if we don't!"

"He will burn the village if we do, take captive those of us who can serve him, and kill those who can't," the king shot back. "You surely cannot expect him to spare us just because we give him what he wants." He shook his head, then turned to Kani. "Why did he let you come to find me? Why didn't he send his own warriors?" The scout bowed his head, his face shining with modest pride.

"He never saw me, my king," he answered. "I was hidden, and overheard his words." Huko looked alarmed.

"Then he _will_ have sent warriors!" he exclaimed. "We must hide the medallion. I dare not try to use it to drive him away; I'm afraid it's too late for that, and I won't risk it falling into his hands. We can retrieve it later, at a more opportune moment." He glanced desperately around the surrounding jungle, his mind racing through several hiding places before his eye fell on the waterfall in front of them. Instantly, and idea popped into his head.

"Quick, find me a heavy rock," he commanded, and the other two islanders hastily started combing the bank and shallows for a likely stone. Huko yanked the amulet off and slammed it against the heel of his palm, knocking the blue gem out of the center. Immediately, it started to crust over, and the medallion lost it's shine.

Mohea ran up to him and dropped a small but dense rock into his hand, and he pushed it into the empty cavity. Jerking off his royal sash, he wrapped it around the amulet, just like his father had done nine years ago, and pressed the magic stone into the girl's hand.

"Bury it," he commanded. "There, on the bank. Put a heavy stone over it to mark the place." The king stripped off his shirt and dove into the pool of water, the medallion protectively clenched in his hand, as Mohea hurried to do his bidding.

Huko surfaced, shaking water out of his eyes, before taking a few deep breaths and diving beneath the surface again. Immediately, the noise of the jungle vanished, and his ears were filled with the peace of under water. He opened his eyes, ignoring the unpleasant stinging sensation, and swam towards the waterfall, pulling himself towards the rocky bottom with powerful strokes. Releasing some of his air, the young king sank a bit more, ignoring the strain on his lungs, and dug his hands into the soft, silty sand at the bottom of the pool. The disturbed sand drifted and swirled around him in a hypnotically shifting cloud, but he ignored it, focusing on the task and hand.

With no small amount of difficulty, he finally managed to excavate a shallow hole, into which he carefully dropped the medallion before scooping silt and pebbles over it. He smoothed out the surrounding area, piled a few larger rocks over it, and then kicked towards the surface, lungs burning and vision swimming.

Mohea and Kani had been anxiously watching the water, waiting for their king to surface, and they surged forward to help him as he finally broke the surface. The two islanders splashed into the water, taking hold of Huko's arms and pulling him to shore, where he flaked out on the bank and concentrated on breathing.

The young woman bit her lip before addressing a question to her companion. "Huko, why won't you just use the medallion to keep Cobra away? It is not as if the stone is missing again!" Huko couldn't help the faint blush that crept up his tanned cheeks, but he stayed on track.

"I don't know what the exact situation at the village is at the moment, and I don't want to risk phrasing a wish badly," he answered, thinking of the spontaneous wish that brought Billy and Allie back from their own time a year ago. "Besides, Cobra will have men out looking for us, and I _will not_ risk letting him get the medallion. It's better that we retrieve it at a later time and use it when he doesn't expect it - and this way, we have some sway over him." Mohea looked dubious, feeling that that explanation was hardly satisfactory, but she held her tongue as her king continued.

He looked them both in the eyes, his voice taking on a firm tone. "We three are the only ones who know of the location of the medallion and the stone, and it must stay that way," he said. "Promise me you will not tell _anyone,_ unless two of us are already dead and the last is dying."

Mohea and Kani both gave their word, looking faintly apprehensive. Despite their fear, however, their faces reflected true fighting spirit; there was a determined firmness in the tilt of Mohea's chin, and the young warrior looked excited about the prospect of a fight. Huko felt a rush of fierce pride for his people, but was given no time to dwell on it; the sounds of approaching men reached their ears, and the king barely had time to pull his shirt back on before Cobra's warriors burst into view.

"There he is!" one of them shouted, pointing a wicked looking machete at the young king. "Seize him!"

"Run!" Huko hissed to the other two. Kani ignored him and leaped forward, brandishing his own spear.

"Go, your Highness!" he called. "I'll hold them off!"

Scarcely had the words left his mouth before a crossbolt hit him in the throat, and he made a strangled, gurgling sound before pitching forward and lying still. He was dead before he hit the ground.

Mohea gave one horrified shriek, and then she was off, running and stumbling through the jungle as Huko pulled her along, Cobra's men hot on their heels.

"How did he get more lackeys so quickly?" she gasped, tripping over a root that twisted across the path, deceptively hidden beneath the soil. The king pulled her back to her feet, never flagging in his breakneck pace.

"Who knows...mercenaries, maybe, or some of his former warriors," he answered. "Save your breath for running!"

Accordingly, they pelted along in silence, leaping over obstacles when they saw them and stumbling over them when they didn't. Mohea was hampered by her long skirt, and Huko's wet trousers were causing him some difficulty, but they never slowed, even as they began to stagger with weariness. Behind them, the sounds of their pursuers were growing louder as the men gained on them, and desperation lent the two teenagers speed and a much-needed second wind.

Just as Huko was beginning to hope that they might make it to safety, eight more warriors materialized out of the jungle in front of them and fanned out in a semicircle, blocking their way. The two Aumakua islanders skidded to a halt, glancing around wildly for an escape route. There was none.

Huko placed himself in front of Mohea as the warriors who'd been chasing them dashed up. The young king's eyes darted around, seeking one gap, one break in the circle of hostile faces, but there was no way to get by them. There were too many. They were outnumbered.

The young man bowed his head as the tallest of the warriors snapped orders to the rest. "Tie their hands behind them and take them back to the village. And hurry up about it, my lord doesn't like to be kept waiting!"

Mohea managed to land a few good kicks on the shins of their captors before she was forced to her knees and her arms yanked behind her, her wrists bound cruelly tight with a coarse cord. A few feet away, Huko was receiving the same merciless treatment; then they were roughly dragged to their feet and forced to walk, stumbling with exhaustion as they made their way back to the village.

The leader of the group strode along beside them, issuing further commands to the rest of the men. "Hem them in - if they try to escape, shoot them in the legs, but don't kill them. " His dark eyes pitilessly swept the two captives.

"Cobra wants them alive."


	3. At the Village

"Why are they here?" Mohea hissed. "Why haven't we been taken to Cobra Island?"

"Somebody sabotaged their boats," her friend, a girl named Ohtara, answered. "We tried to fight back before they landed, but they took us by surprise." She shifted uncomfortably, twisting her hands in a futile effort to loosen the rope binding her wrists together, but it was too tight. "We have a better chance of escape here, but now Cobra and his men are stranded here, too, until they can repair or replace their outriggers." The other girl gritted her teeth angrily as she thought of the mongol warlord and his men defiling their island.

 _'They're not going to get away with this,'_ she thought furiously. _'We will not be enslaved again!'_

"Where's the medallion?" Ohtara whispered. "I didn't see it when they brought you and King Huko back." Mohea glanced around at the guards, who were standing nearby, watching the captive villagers.

"Hidden," she murmured, her lips barely moving. "Kani came to warn us, and we had time to hide it."

"Where is Kani?" her friend inquired quietly. "I didn't see him come back." Her eyes widened as she saw the look on Mohea's face. "He's not... They killed him?" The beautiful girl nodded, her dark eyes filled with sadness.

"He tried to defend us," she whispered. "He was going to hold them off while we escaped. But he never had the chance." A single tear slipped down Ohtara's smooth cheek.

"He won't be the last, I daresay," she murmured disconsolately. "Oh Mohea, what chance do we have? Last time we had help from King Huko and the other three, but now we're on our own, with no outside help to-" Her words were cut off as a guard jabbed her in the ribs with the butt of a wooden spear.

"No talking!" he growled, giving her another vicious poke. Ohtara doubled over, trying to dull the throbbing as he jabbed the spear at Mohea.

The feisty girl clamped her arm over it, trapping the weapon against her side. "Do that again, and I will stuff that javelin down your throat," she said, her voice dripping with contempt. "Do not think that I am incapable of it."

She stared fearlessly and unblinkingly up at the warrior, who was beginning to remember a certain girl from their last invasion, a girl that nearly controlled the operations beneath Cobra Island by the gentle art of blackmail. A girl that charged into battle without a second's hesitation, who wreaked havoc with the improvised weapons the prisoners had to hand. He remembered seeing her several times, and now he recognized her as this same girl, sitting at his feet, tied up but still managing to fight in her own way.

Trying to hide his discomfiture, he tugged his spear free and strode off, leaving the two girls alone under the watchful eyes of the other guards.

* * *

 _"Where is it?"_

Hot rage boiled in Cobra's blood, and his fingers kept tensing, as if he longed to plunge his poisonous nails into his prisoner's neck. (Which, in point of fact, was exactly what he wanted to do.)

Huko tilted his head back, glaring at the warlord with narrowed eyes. "You can ask me that 'til the earth crumbles away beneath our feet and you fall into Hell. I will never tell you!"

He gasped as Cobra seized him by the throat, dragging him up onto his toes and slowly sliding his fang-like fingernail down the boy's neck, stopping right at the jugular vein. The warlord's voice was cold as stone.

"The only reason you are not dead right now is because I want the medallion." He pulled the choking boy closer, his hard eyes only a few inches from Huko's. "I will find it, if I have to tear this island apart, leaf by leaf and stone by stone. I will start," he gave the young king a vicious shake, "with your pathetic village. So unless you want to see those pitiful creatures outside utterly destroyed, you can make it easier on all of us and just _tell me where it is._ "

Huko struggled to draw breath, but Cobra's grip was too tight to allow the slightest bit of air to flow through his constricted windpipe. "I...will... _never_...tell you!" he choked.

The evil man flung him away, and he crashed into the wall, sliding down it to land in an undignified heap on the rough floor. The young king coughed hoarsely, gasping for breath, before raising defiant brown eyes to his captor again.

"Why do you even want it?" he demanded. The anger in his voice covered the fear that bubbled in his stomach and threatened to show through on his face. "It will not work for you, you know that!" Cobra stared down at him, coldly calculating.

"But it would work for you," he answered softly. "You have changed since I last saw you, and I've no doubt that the medallion would do your bidding." He squatted down, watching the boy with his black, emotionless, snake-like eyes. "You could save your people and yourself; I would let you all go free, if you would just bring me the medallion and use it as I commanded."

Huko stared at him, his dark brows drawn together in an incredulous frown. "That is your definition of 'free'?" he said scornfully. He gave a brittle, mirthless laugh. "If you really believe that I or any other Aumakua islander would fall for that, you are..." he paused, his eyes roving over the man before him, "truly pitiable."

Cobra's jaw clenched in fury, and he struck the boy a vicious blow across the mouth. Huko's head snapped back, and the warm, coppery taste of blood filled his mouth as his lip split against his teeth. The warlord stood up, glowering at him with unveiled hatred.

"You are going to wish you had agreed," he hissed venomously. The young king spat out some blood and returned the glare, his brown eyes snapping with righteous anger.

"I'd sooner die!" An evil smile twisted Cobra's lips as he crossed the room to the frond door.

"That," he said softly, "can be arranged, far more easily than you think."

* * *

Mohea stood up, snagging one of Ohtara's hairpins out of sheer luck and Providence as she rose. Her fingers were so cold and numb that she could barely keep hold of it long enough to pull it out of her friend's dark tresses. Ohtara felt the wooden pin slide down her arm as the other girl dropped it to her, and she barely managed to catch it before it hit the ground. She cupped her hands around it to hide it from view, careful to keep her head bowed and make no sudden movements.

One of the warriors marched over to them, brandishing his weapon - some sort of curved metal pole, ending in a fierce hook - at Mohea.

"What do you think you're doing?" he demanded angrily. "Sit back down, girl, before I cut your legs off!" Mohea threw her head back, glaring at the guard with open disdain.

"With _that_ thing?" she said scornfully. She lifted her chin. "I will stand up if I please; I'm not going anywhere." The man looked as if he might back down, but another, harder looking man strode up - the girls recognized him as one of Cobra's former warriors.

"Sit down," he snarled. "Or I will choose someone at random and kill them." The girl hissed slightly as she sucked in a breath between her teeth. She hadn't the slightest doubt that this man would carry out his threat, and she sank back down to the damp ground, lowering her eyes to hide the sting of defeat. The warrior gave them both a warning look, and the two returned to the fire around which the rest of Cobra's men were sitting. Mohea turned her head slightly to cast her mouth into shadow.

"Did you get it?" she whispered. Ohtara made a low, affirmative sound in her throat.

"Yes," she breathed. "It's slow going, but the rope is beginning to fray slightly." She made a frustrated noise as the hairpin slipped from her numb fingers. "I dropped it," she whispered, tears of pain and irritation stinging her eyes. "I can't get the right angle to stab through." The young girl tried to stifle a sob; she was cold, tired, scared, and very close to giving up all hope. "What now?"

Mohea twisted around 'til the two girls were back to back, brushing her fingers over the ground in search of the slender implement. "I've got it," she hissed, fumbling to angle her hands without moving too noticeably. "Hold still, I'll try to get you free. Pretend to be asleep now, but keep watch for me."

She leaned back against her friend, letting the folds of her skirt fall over her wrists and conceal their bound hands as she began stabbing at Ohtara's bonds with the sharp hairpin. The other girl did the same, shifting a little to keep their hands out of the firelight as it cast its flickering beams towards them. Ohtara tilted her head back against Mohea's, peering from beneath her lowered lashes to monitor the movements of Cobra's warriors. Behind her, her friend grunted slightly as the hairpin slipped, scraping her wrist.

"This is going to take a while," Mohea whispered, and Ohtara resigned herself to the long night of waiting as the determined maiden worked away at the ropes that bound their hands behind them.

Mohea's jaw was set, and if anyone had seen her eyes, they would have quailed at the fire that smoldered in the chocolaty depths **.**


	4. A Plea for Help

Cobra stood on the beach at the edge of the water, his long fingers wrapped so tightly around the hilt of his machete that his knuckles were dead white. If he were a more emotional man, he would have been pacing - as it was, he stood like a granite statue, staring out over the ocean, jaw locked so painfully tight that it felt like his teeth were fusing together.

Behind him, the witch doctor, Zarabua, shuffled along the strand, picking up various shells and dropping them into his belt pouch. He tossed a broken piece of a sand dollar around in his hand before adding it to his collection, and cast an amused glance at his cohort.

"You can stop fretting, Cobe. As soon as we have the medallion, I can reverse its power so it will work only for you, you can trot off to the future, take your revenge on the boy, return here, destroy this pathetic island, and live happily ever after." Cobra turned away from the water, habitually running his thumb down the fang-like nail on his index finger.

"What good is it if that Aumakua brat won't tell me where the medallion _is?_ " he said, anger and frustration clearly evident in his voice. "He will tell me nothing, not even to save his village." Zarabua picked up a golden abalone shell, holding it up and letting the sunlight slant through it.

"There are other ways of finding it, you know," he said absently, turning the delicate shell over in his stained fingers and squinting up at it. Cobra looked at him with narrowed eyes.

"What do you mean?" he asked. The witch doctor rolled the abalone between his fingers, watching the sunlight sparkle on the translucent surface.

"The girl was with him, was she not?" he murmured.

"What?"

"The girl. You know, the one who's been causing trouble with the guards. Moa-what's-her-name. She was with the boy when your men captured him, correct?" The warlord frowned, recalling to mind the previous afternoon, when Huko and Mohea had been dragged into the village and the medallion was found to be missing again.

"Yes, I believe she was. Why?" Zarabua looked at him pityingly.

"So, she must know where the bloody amulet is hidden, too," he said, speaking slowly as if spelling it out to a simpleminded child. Cobra instinctively stiffened his fingers, but kept his hand still. The witch doctor still had to prove useful before he could be disposed of.

"What makes you think she will tell me any more than the boy will?" he demanded.

"It is a well known fact that women are softer than men," his companion stated. He glanced up at the mongol warrior, baring his rotten teeth in an ugly smile. "I'm sure you can find a way to... _persuade_ her to reveal the location of the medallion."

Cobra tilted his head, a slow smile spreading across his wickedly handsome face. The witch doctor grinned and nodded, practically watching the ideas swirl around in the warlord's mind.

"She seems to be quite loyal to the brat," he noted, "not only as her king, but as her friend. It's a simple matter of threatening his life, forcing her to tell you where the amulet is hidden, and then," he clenched his fist, swiftly crushing the fragile golden shell into splinters, "you will have whatever your heart desires."

The unpleasant laughter of the two evil men echoed down the beach, contaminating the very air with their vileness.

* * *

"Give me the hairpin and tie my hands again, I have a plan."

Ohtara tucked the wooden pin into Mohea's hair, hastily rebinding her friend's hands and slipping the loosely knotted rope back over her own wrists. "What are you going to do?" she whispered.

"I'm going to send a message to Billy and Allie," the other girl answered quietly. "Don't ask questions now; just sit tight 'til I get back." Ohtara looked at her, anxiety shining out of her brown eyes.

"Be careful," she whispered. Her friend flashed her a reassuring smile and stood up, walking up to a small clump of warriors.

"I have to go into the jungle."

The men looked at her suspiciously. "Why?" one of them demanded. Mohea stared at him coldly.

"Why do you think?"

They shuffled uncomfortably for a moment, then the leader of the group spoke up. "Well, don't just stand there. Untie her hands and escort her into the jungle. If you let her escape, Cobra won't be happy." He turned to the girl, grinning maliciously. "If you _try_ to escape, Cobra won't be happy about that either. And remember, you've still got friends here."

The lovely girl tossed her head, staring down her nose at the warrior. "I won't forget," she said icily. The cords restraining her wrists were cut, and five of the men escorted her away from the village. Once they were out of sight of the huts, she turned and leveled a fierce glare at them. "If any of you even _start_ to look the wrong way, I will demonstrate how to kill someone with just an elbow," she said threateningly. Two of them looked faintly startled, but the other three just glared back.

"Get going, girl, and hurry up," one of them growled. "Don't worry about us; as long as you don't try to run off, we won't bother you." Mohea lifted her chin haughtily and swept over to a large tree several feet away.

As soon as she was out of sight of her escort, she yanked the hairpin from her loose bun and pulled her journal out of a hidden pocket deep in her skirt, her heart pounding. She took a few deep breaths, clenched her teeth, and scraped the sharp wooden pick along her leg, drawing blood. Flipping to the back of the little book, she dabbed the hairpin on the scratch and scrawled a hasty message on a blank page.

 _Billy,_

 _We need you and Allie. Cobra is back. We don't know how, but we need your help._

 _Mohea_

She blew on the morbid ink substitute to dry it before closing the journal and slipping it back into her pocket. Tearing off a strip of her skirt, she wrapped it around the scrape and stood up, wiping the blood off the hairpin and concealing it in her dark tresses once more.

Mohea returned to the quintet, trying to gather her dignity. "I'm going to the shore to wash - you can trail along if you want to or go back to your twisted master, I don't care." She stalked off down the path, her face burning with the humiliation of the whole situation. The five men hurried to keep up.

Three of them were seasoned warriors who had served under Cobra for many years, the other two, mercenaries who had been _convinced_ to join his ranks upon his recent return. All five of them were ruthless killers with no regard for men, women, or children, but none of them could fail to be impressed - or at least astonished - at this girl's poise and courage. They followed her in silence as she made her way to the beach.

The island girl plunged her hands into the warm, briny water, feeling along the bottom for a sharp shell or stone. Her fingers brushed across the jagged edge of a broken piece of conch, and she seized it, pressing it into her palm and curving her hand slightly to keep it in place. She continued her search 'til one of the guards yelled down to her.

"That's enough, girl! Come on now, or we'll shoot you in the legs, and then you'll have to do your business at the village." Mohea gritted her teeth in anger, but stood up and walked back up the beach to the five men, who promptly surrounded her and marched her back to the rest of the captives. One of them grabbed her arms and tied her hands behind her again, shoving her over to her spot by Ohtara. She sank down next to her friend, feeling the adrenaline she didn't know she had seep out of her system, leaving her weak and trembling.

"Did you do it?" Ohtara hissed urgently. Mohea nodded.

"Yes, I did it," she murmured. "Here." She pressed the broken shell into the other girl's hand. "Cut me loose again."

Ohtara obliged, unobtrusively sawing away at the ropes restraining her friend. It was still somewhat difficult, but far simpler than trying to stab the bindings to death with a wooden hairpin. "Now what do we do?" she whispered. Mohea couldn't help the grim smile that spread across her face.

"Now, we wait two hundred years for them to get the message."

* * *

 **Great big giant thank you to Casey Storm for reviewing so faithfully. You're what keeps me posting here, girl. :)**

 **To everyone who's reading this story, please, please take just a minute to leave a review. I'm sort of unsure about my writing - are things progressing too fast? Too slow? Is there too much detail, or not enough? I need feedback! :/**


	5. Poisoned

The hot tropical sun beat down unmercifully down on Huko's back, and perspiration ran down his temples and forehead, stinging his eyes. All the villagers had been put to work on the third day of their captivity, and the fifteen-year-old king was among those forced to craft new boats for Cobra and his men. His palms were slick with sweat, making it hard to grasp the crude tools that he'd been given.

Huko wasn't the only one having trouble. A few feet away, an older man's blade slipped, scoring a shallow cut on the smooth side of the outrigger canoe that he was constructing. Immediately, one of the numerous guards was behind him, ruthlessly lashing him with a leather whip.

"Clumsy village bumpkin! See what damage your incompetence has caused!" The scratch was well above the waterline and scarcely noticeable, but the cruel man didn't care. He pulled out his machete and hacked the half-finished boat to pieces, wielding the whip again. "You will have to start over - but first, a good beating should ensure it doesn't happen again!"

The slave's wails echoed down the beach, and the other prisoners bent to their work, fighting to keep back sympathetic tears. Life under the lash of Cobra's men could hardly be called life at all, but the villagers had little hope of aid or escape this time. And so they kept their heads down and eyes lowered, trying to shut out the pitiful cries of the unlucky man as the guard brutally flogged away.

Suddenly, the sharp leather thong wrapped around an outstretched hand, and the whip was yanked from the warrior's grip. Huko stood between him and the old man, eyes blazing and fist clenched around the hammer he'd been using.

"That's enough!" he said furiously, practically spitting with anger. "How do you expect him to build your boat if he cannot bear to move his shoulders? Lay off of him, or make your own canoes!"

Stars exploded in front of his eyes as the guard dealt him a crashing blow across the face, and he landed with a dull _whump_ on the sand. The whip was jerked from his limp hand, and the warrior raised it threateningly, his face twisted with rage.

"You will pay for your interference, spawn of a chattering monkey!"

He hadn't brought the lash down more than once before it was once more pulled from his grasp. Several of the villagers who'd been working nearby saw what transpired, and loyalty to their young king bolstered their courage and prompted them to move. Now, they formed a small ring around the boy and the old man, facing the guard with determination shining out of their dark eyes.

"Leave him alone!" one woman said sharply. "How can you demand the work be done if you insist on beating us within an inch of our lives? Leave them alone!" Some distance away, more of Cobra's men noticed the small uprising and started running towards them.

The guard snatched his whip back from the young man who was holding it, considering using it on the yokels surrounding the whelp they called king, but decided against it. It would probably just be taken away from him again, and he already felt the sting of humiliation simply from letting the situation get out of his control.

"Get back to your places," he snarled as reinforcements pounded up behind him. "Or we will shoot you all where you stand!"

The villagers didn't move, merely standing and staring with fearless defiance at the invaders, until Huko's voice issued softly from the center of the circle.

"Go back to your work, friends," he said quietly - and just like that, the captive slaves silently returned to the unfinished boats, picked up their tools, and bent to their tasks without a word. Cobra's men were dumbfounded. Surely these Aumakua clods could not still consider the boy their king? He had been taken prisoner like the rest of them; they watched as he was forced to toil in the hot sun; they saw him beaten down like a dog. And yet they still stood their ground until he gave them a simple order, and then they obeyed him without a single sound of protest. It boggled the guards' minds.

They glared darkly at the young king and drifted back to oversee the rest of the workers. Huko turned and helped the old man to his feet.

"Are you alright?" he asked in a low voice. The man nodded.

"I'm fine," he whispered, and gently squeezed the boy's hands in his own. "Thank you, King Huko. That was very brave of you to stand up to Cobra's men." He smiled warmly at the teenager, who felt as if his heart had been smashed with a giant mallet.

 _'I only wish I could do more,'_ he thought to himself. _'My people are suffering, and I cannot do anything to help them.'_ Aloud, he said, "You finish the canoe I was working on - I'll start a new one." Ignoring the man's gratitude that spilled forth afresh, he strode off to the pile of wooden planks that other slaves were cutting, sanding, and stacking for those crafting the outriggers.

Scarcely had he hoisted several of the boards over his shoulder when one of Cobra's new generals - a cruelly handsome, middle-aged man who looked like he could snap a spear like a twig - stalked up and seized his arm.

"My lord Cobra wishes to see you," he said harshly. Huko carefully re-stacked the planks and wrenched his arm from the man's grasp, only for him to grab the boy again, his hold painfully tight. The general all but dragged him to what was formerly his hut, where Cobra had set up headquarters.

As his captor paused to knock on the door, Huko glanced over his shoulder, observing the activity of his people. A large group of them seemed to be expanding and fortifying the village; a few smaller huts - _'Barracks for his men, I suppose'_ \- were being erected across the stream, and a group of women and elderly men were sitting by the water, sharpening the ends of giant stakes, while younger men carried them to the edges of the village where a stockade wall was being constructed.

Though he was loathe to admit it, Huko was forced to acknowledge the warlord's cleverness; he knew exactly how best to exploit the usefulness of all his slaves, even the ones who were too old or feeble for heavy labor. The number of people working at each project ensured a flawless system that ran like water; anyone who interrupted the steady flow was severely punished by the sadistic soldiers.

The door of the hut swung open, and the general shoved his prisoner through the doorway into the dimly lit interior. Cobra was standing in front of the far wall, his face completely devoid of expression.

"Leave us," he said coldly, and the man bowed and withdrew. The warlord's cold black eyes swept over to Huko, locking and holding the boy's gaze. "I give you one more chance. Tell me where the medallion is, and I will not harm you. Make it easy for both of us, and you will not regret it. Refuse," he dipped his chin slightly, and his fingers flexed, "and I will make you suffer for it."

The island king squared his shoulders, trying to suppress the fear that boiled in his stomach. He knew that whatever Cobra did would be far, far worse than the common brutality of his soldiers, but he also knew that, should the magic amulet fall into evil hands, life as they knew it would be over forever. There were whispered rumors among the captive villagers that a witch doctor had come with Cobra, a man capable of reversing the medallion's power, and though Huko had never seen him, several of his faithful people claimed they had.

"I will never tell you where it is," he said hotly, and the evil man's eyes flashed with unveiled anger.

"So be it," he said. He crossed the room to a small table, dipping his long thumbnail into the pot of poison sitting thereon. The venom hissed and steamed on contact, and Cobra hooded his eyes, looking for all the world like the serpent for which he was named. "But there are other ways for me to find it." Keeping his eyes locked on Huko's, he raised his voice and bellowed. "Guards!"

* * *

Mohea wiped her wrist across her forehead, brushing damp strands of hair out of her eyes. Her hands were blistering from holding hammer and tongs for so long, and the oppressive heat issuing from the makeshift forge, coupled with the typical jungle climate, made her feel close to fainting. She almost envied Ohtara, who was hip-deep in the ocean, fishing for provisions. The hot sun would be nigh-unbearable, Mohea knew, but at least the fisher-folk were out in the open air, where a cooling sea breeze would bring them relief. Here in the jungle, standing over a roaring fire, the close, humid air coupled with the intense heat was absolute misery.

She raised the large hammer and dealt the half-formed sword a few well-placed, even strokes. Her arms were aching abominably and so tired it felt like they were going to fall off at any moment. The young woman half wished they would; at least then she'd be spared further toil at the hot forge.

The thought had barely formed in her foggy mind when one of the ubiquitous soldiers seemingly materialized out of the muggy air. "You, girl! Come with me - my lord Cobra wants a word with you." Mohea never raised her eyes from her work.

"Who's going to finish this sword, then?" she inquired coolly. The man glanced at it, perceived that it wasn't special enough to be for his master, and snarled quietly at the girl's insolence.

"Leave it!" he barked. "My lord does not like to be kept waiting!" He grabbed her around the waist, bodily dragging her away. Mohea dropped the hammer and tongs, twisted around, and slapped him across his rugged face.

"How dare you!" she hissed. The man staggered, rubbing his stinging cheek, then promptly retaliated in kind. Much to her credit, Mohea didn't even flinch, and once again she earned the admiration of one of the ruthless men. True to his training, however, he didn't let it show, and, seizing her wrist, he dragged her through the trees to Cobra's hut.

The warlord's low voice answered the soldier's knock, and he entered the shadowy room, pushing Mohea ahead of him. "Here, my lord. This is the one that was with the boy the other day."

Cobra's eyes swept her, and she suppressed a shiver, forcing herself to meet his stare. He dismissed the warrior with a single word: "Go." Like the general, the man bowed low and backed out the door, vanishing into the jungle again.

Mohea stood stiffly as Cobra paced around her, his slow, fluid movements reminding her of a poisonous snake. Her skin crawled as he stopped behind her, his hot breath puffing against her neck.

"What is your name, girl?" he asked.

"Mohea," she answered stiffly, biting off the word with as much defiance as she could muster.

"Well Mohea, I have a problem." Every muscle in her body was clenched, but she refused to turn around and reveal her nervousness, and he stayed behind her, his voice rasping in her ear like a serpent's scales over stones. "I happen to have need of your village's famous medallion - great need of it, in fact. Unfortunately," he breathed a regretful sigh, "I do not know where it is. And certain persons who do are...uncooperative." He moved around to stand in front of her, lowering his head and peering intently into her eyes. "I thought perhaps you would like to tell me."

Mohea felt like a bird, trapped by the hypnotic gaze of a predatory snake. All she could focus on were the cold, empty black eyes before her. The evil warlord's outline seemed to blur and shift, and it seemed to the captive girl that he took on the undulating shape of a hooded cobra, fangs bared and ready to strike. Her breath froze in her throat, and she stared in horrified fascination at apparition in front of her.

Cobra's brows drew together in consternation; the girl was completely unresponsive. From what he'd heard about her, she was a troublemaker that didn't frighten easily - so why was she standing here as if carved from stone, not blinking, barely seeming to breathe? He spoke to the witch doctor who was lurking in the shadows. "What is wrong with her?"

Zarabua hobbled forward, peering intently at the frozen girl, and gave an amused grunt. "Hypnotized. The heat's playing havoc with her mind, and you scared her. Hallucinating, no doubt." He cackled. "I'd give a great deal to know what she thinks she sees right now." Cobra hissed in annoyance.

"You can give her some water instead," he ordered. "I'll get nothing from her in this state." He crossed the room to the back wall, brushing his fang-nailed fingers down the folds of a red curtain hanging there. Zarabua picked up a bamboo cup of water and tossed the contents in Mohea's face, and she snapped out of her trance with a small gasp. The witch doctor grinned and shuffled to the door.

"I'll be on the beach if you need me," he said, and exited.

Cobra approached Mohea again, careful to avoid prolonged eye contact this time. "You were with the boy when he hid the medallion," he stated, getting right to the point. "I want it. Will you tell me where it is?" Mohea lifted her chin.

"No," she answered simply. The warlord's eyes narrowed.

"Your courage is admirable," he said softly, "But perhaps I can convince you to change your mind." Turning on his heel, he stalked over and whisked the swath of red material down, revealing a tied up Huko. The Aumakua king was sitting on a stool, his ankles bound to the legs thereof and his arms stretched above his head, his wrists tied with a rope that was pulled taught and cinched around a rod above the small window. It was a very vulnerable position, and though the movement was nearly imperceptible, the girl could see that he was trembling.

Cobra strolled over to a small table, on which rested several small glass pots, and leisurely dipped his thumbnail into one of them. The usual hiss and steam was accompanied by an acrid smell, and the two prisoners twisted their faces in disgust. Their captor ignored their discomfort, stepping behind Huko and looking over his head at the girl. "Will you tell me where it is?" he inquired.

Mohea looked at her king, who shook his head. She raised her eyes to the evil man, taking a deep breath. "No." Cobra's face hardened.

"Then let me try a different argument."

He abruptly yanked Huko's shirt up and slashed his thumb across the boy's bare back, his long nail scoring a thin, diagonal line from his left shoulder to his right hip. Huko's teeth clenched, and he arched his back as tiny drops of blood beaded along the scrape. Mohea clamped her hands to her mouth to hold back a shriek, and she stared with horror at the two of them.

Cobra let the young man's shirt fall, tilting his head back and staring with hooded eyes at the girl. "There is a slow-acting poison working its way into his bloodstream," he informed her, almost conversationally. "A poison to which there is only one antidote, which I alone possess. Tell me where the medallion is hidden, and I will administer the cure." The young maiden lowered her trembling hands.

"I-"

"No!" Huko's voice rang sharply, stopping her. "Mohea! Tell him nothing!" The girl looked at him in agony, but his eyes were firm, his expression commanding. He was her king, and he had given her an order. She would not disobey him - not even to save his life.

She raised fear-filled eyes to the warlord. "I will tell you nothing," she said, struggling to keep her voice from shaking. (It was to be noted that she wasn't entirely successful.)

Cobra raised an eyebrow. "So be it." He replenished the venom on his nail and headed for the door. "When you are prepared to tell me, and tell me truthfully, the location of what I seek, I will provide the antidote to the poison. Until then," he paused in the doorway, allowing a wicked smile to appear briefly on his lips, "you can watch him suffer."

Then he was gone, leaving the two young people alone.

* * *

 **I'm sorry to stop at such a cliffhanger, but this was the last chapter I had written and ready, and the writing urge has suddenly and abruptly left me. :l I'll try to keep hacking away at it - if anyone is still interested - but I can almost promise there will be a drop in the quality, and updates definitely won't be so close together. XD**


	6. 200 Years Later

There was a harsh squeal of brakes as an open-top jeep and bright green moped skidded to a simultaneous halt, throwing soil around and sending dead leaves swirling up into the air. Allie closed her book and folded her hands on the cover, pursing her lips as she watched her adopted brother and father climb off and out of their respective vehicles, wearing identical grins.

"Did you enjoy your race?" she asked with a deceptively bright smile. Billy removed his helmet, running his fingers through his thick brown mop of hair, and shared a happy glance with his dad.

"You bet we did!" he exclaimed. "Dad's car is faster, of course, but I've got the advantage of maneuverability." Mr. Stone clapped his son on the shoulder, pulling him to his side and nodding in vigorous agreement.

"I still can't believe how much speed you coax out of that little thing, though," he said, and turned to the fourteen-year-old girl waiting on the porch. "It was like trying race a speedy little bug on wheels."

"Splendid." Allie crossed her arms, staring down at the two of them. "I vote one of you gets to clean the porch." She swept her arm in a wide gesture, indicating the mess thrown up by the tires of their vehicles. Dry leaves and dirt clods littered the floor, mud was spattered all across the steps, and loam clung to everything.

The two culprits looked at each other guiltily, and Mr. Stone spoke up. "Don't worry sweetie, I'll clean the porch - and I tell you what, while I'm doing that, you could make some salad and rolls, and if Billy will make his barbecue sauce, we'll have grilled ribs tonight. We can watch a movie and make a family holiday of it."

Delighted whoops greeted this suggestion, and the two friends raced into the house, their father yelling after them.

"Don't forget to wash your hands first!"

* * *

Fourteen year old boys do not, as a general rule, make good housekeepers, and Billy Stone was no exception. His room could hardly be called tidy, he slacked about doing chores, and his cooking attempts wouldn't have inspired confidence in a starving tramp. But, by some strange quirk of fate, he had one culinary feather in his proverbial cap - his barbecue sauce. The thick condiment was the perfect combination of sweet, rich, and tangy, and, in the Stones' opinions, it added the final touch to a perfect evening.

Billy and his father were sprawled side by side on the living room floor, watching a documentary of ancient architecture on the - in Billy's opinion - equally ancient television set. Allie sat cross-legged nearby, perusing Mohea's journal and casting an occasional glance at the screen when something interesting was mentioned.

The boy rolled onto his side, propping himself on his elbow and nibbling a cold but still tasty roll. "That's not right," he remarked through a mouthful of bread. "Gothic architecture only lasted into the sixteenth century, not the seventeenth, and the Gothic Revival didn't come about 'til the seventeen hundreds. I think they're getting mixed up." Mr. Stone chuckled.

"Cut them some slack, Billy," he said. "Not everyone is an architect."

"No, but these people are supposed to be historians!" his son retorted, gesturing wildly at the old TV. "How're you supposed to trust these documentaries when they don't even get the facts right?"

"You have to take any history you hear with a grain of salt," the archaeologist said sagely. "Including the fact that Gothic architecture died out, for the most part, in the sixteenth century." Billy rolled his eyes.

"Dad," he said, his voice heavy with exaggerated patience, "I know you can't trust everything you hear. That," he flicked his hand at the screen again, "is proof. But when the vast majority of historians claim something and one single person claims something different, I'm more likely to believe the mass."

"Many an innocent man has been executed for crimes he did not commit because of the masses," was his father's rejoinder. The boy stared at him, askance, ignoring the offensively inaccurate documentary as it droned away in the background.

"We're not talking about criminals, we're talking about architecture! Are you saying you believe the Gothic style lasted into the seventeenth century?"

"I'm not saying anything of the sort," Mr. Stone answered. "I'm just saying-"

"Billy?" Allie's voice, unusually high-pitched, cut across him. She'd been paying little to no attention to their conversation for the past few minutes, opting instead to read the antiquarian journal. Now, she was staring at a page with a strange expression on her round face. "Billy, come look at this."

Curiosity aroused, Billy dutifully went over to his adopted sister, his father right behind peered over the girl's shoulder at the page and the untidy words scrawled thereon.

 _Billy,  
We need you and Allie. Cobra is back. We don't know how, but we need your help.  
Mohea_

Mr. Stone stared at it in consternation. "What in the world?" he exclaimed. The children ignored him.

"Billy, what do you think it means?" Allie asked anxiously. Her adopted brother was staring at the dark words in shock.

"What do you mean, 'what does it mean'?" he answered. "It means exactly what Mohea said - Cobra is somehow still alive, and he's come back to the village! Allie," he peered closer, "is that written in _blood?_ " The girl squinted down at the writing and gave a low gasp.

"It is!" she said, her voice scared. "You don't think- Do you suppose she was injured?"

"Will someone please explain to me what is going on here?" their father demanded. Again, he was paid no attention.

"She must have been," Billy said grimly, feeling a twinge of anger at the thought of Cobra's men hurting the beautiful young woman. "Unless it's someone else' blood." Allie traced the letters with her finger and shuddered.

"How could Cobra be back?" she asked, raising her blue-grey eyes to her brother's face. "You dropped him in his own fire pit - how could he have survived that?"

"You did what to who in the where now?!"

Billy's face was creased in a frown, his mind spinning. "Allie..." he said slowly, ignoring his father, "Mr. Cobb was a descendant of Cobra, but Cobra didn't have a wife when he died, right? So Mr. Cobb doesn't exist. He'd have to have existed for me to wish us back in time last year - _but he doesn't._ Which means we never went back in time, which means..." He looked at his sister, his own horror mirrored on her face as she reached the same conclusion he had.

"We never defeated Cobra."

They stared at each other in silence for a moment before a crashing clang startled them out of their horrified stupor. They both jumped and looked at their father, who pushed aside the metal bowl he'd dropped..

"Y'all had better stop pretending I'm invisible and explain to me what's going on _right now_ ," he said, his voice taking on "the dad tone", as Billy called it, a tone that brooked no argument from anyone.

Allie looked at the boy, who shifted uncomfortably before raising his eyes to mean his father's gaze. "Dad, you remember that story we told you last year? About how we got transported into the past by King Kei- by King Huko's medallion?"

"What about it?" Mr. Stone asked suspiciously.

"It was true, I swear it! The medallion really works, it really grants wishes!" Billy insisted. "The girl who wrote this journal, Mohea" he picked the book up off of Allie's lap and waved it at his father, "we met her. I told her she would write before she ever even started, so she knew we'd end up with her book." He looked down at it, the worry clearly evident in his brown eyes. "She wrote this message to me and Allie, knowing it would end up in our possession two hundred years later." His voice dropped a few octaves, as if he were now talking more to himself than his family. "She's in trouble. They all are. And we've got to help them."

"Billy..!" Allie made an impatient noise. "We can't go back in time again, we barely escaped with our lives the first time!" She made a helpless gesture with her hands, tossing her hair over her shoulder like she always did when agitated. "I don't like to think about anything bad happening to Huko and Mohea and Anui and all the rest, either, but don't you see? It's already happened! It occurred and was over with two centuries ago!"

"Maybe it isn't," Billy retorted. "Maybe time is like...like a road, along which all times are happening simultaneously, but just at different points along the..." he waved his hand, trying to think of the right word, "stretch. They could all be alive still, back in what is, for us, two hundred years ago."

"Even if that's true, what can we do?" the girl demanded. "We don't even have the medallion anymore." Her brother looked grim.

"We'll have to borrow it back from the museum," he answered. "And if they won't let us hold it, we're going to have to steal it."

"Steal it? _Steal_ the medallion?" She gave him a look that plainly said she thought he was crazy. "You can't be serious! It's a locally famous historical artifact on display in the museum under impenetrable security lasers and sensors, with hundreds of cameras monitoring it twenty four hours a day! We can't just waltz in and _steal it_!"

"Allie, you don't get it!" Billy exclaimed angrily. "My mother was a direct descendant of Huko's. If something happens to him and he dies before he has a son, _I will cease to exist!_ "

A few moments of ringing silence followed his sobering statement. Then, "Alright," Allie said in a small voice. "We have to get the medallion somehow."

"I'll ask the curator first thing in the morning," Mr. Stone said. "We're going to try to avoid stealing, if at all possible."

"We don't have 'til morning, Dad," his son said quietly. "Huko could be dead before then. You'll have to call the curator this evening." The archaeologist hesitated, then nodded.

"Alright. I'll do it now." He exited the room, leaving the two children to wait in tense silence.

* * *

 _"What do you mean, we're not going?"_ Billy and Allie stared aghast at their father, who was standing with folded arms, looking decisive.

"Just what I said," he answered firmly. "There is no way I'm permitting the two of you to traipse off on some madcap... _rescue mission,_ to face off with some dangerous maniac and his army. I'll go alone."

"But we have to go!" Allie exclaimed, horrified. "We know the way around the island!"

"So do I," Mr. Stone pointed out, slightly nettled. "I live here too, just so you know."

"What she means is that we know our way around the island as it was two centuries ago," Billy said quickly. "We trekked all over it, and I can tell you right now, Dad, it is _not_ the same. We only missed a little bit when we were floating down the river unconscious."

His father's eyes widened, and Allie slapped a hand to her forehead in exasperation. "You probably could have left off that last bit," she muttered.

"Do I even want to know _why_ you were floating unconscious down the river?" Mr. Stone asked, in a tone that clearly said he really _didn't_ want to.

"We jumped over a waterfall," his son answered, before Allie could stop him. She closed her eyes, shaking her head resignedly. They were doomed.

"You jumped. Over a waterfall." The locally famed archaeologist stared at his son, who hastened to explain.

"I jump over waterfalls all the time, just for fun," he said quickly. "Besides, it was the only way to escape from Cobra, who had the medallion and was about to kill-"

"Billy! Stop talking!" Allie glared at her adopted brother before turning to their father. "Dad, we have to go," she pleaded. "Nobody from that time knows you, or you them. You wouldn't be able to tell the villagers from Cobra's men, and you'd have no idea who Mohea was. And," she glanced at Billy, "if things are - were - as bad as we think, you couldn't exactly go asking around for her."

"If the medallion works like you claim it does, I won't need to," Mr. Stone returned readily. "As soon as I get to the past, I'll just wish for this Cobra character to be defeated once and for all."

"In which case there's no danger for us, and no reason for Allie and I to be left behind," Billy said promptly. "Come on Dad, _please_ let us come with you! We couldn't stand to be left here!"

Under a crossfire of puppy eyes and pleading expressions from his son and adopted daughter, Mr. Stone relented. "Oh, alright then," he said grudgingly. "But you are not so much as stepping around a tree out of my sight until we get back here! Got it?"

"Got it." Billy and Allie hugged him delightedly. "Thanks, Dad!" Their father hugged them back and then clapped his hands together.

"Right. Now, the museum curator said he couldn't let us have the medallion 'til next week - which, as you said, won't work, since we can't wait that long - so all that's left to do is break into one of the most secure buildings on the island, disable the security cameras and protections, and steal a famous artifact."

The three Stones stared at each other as the magnitude of what they had to do sank in.

"Great!" Billy said with false cheer. "This should be fun." There was a pause.

"Anyone have any idea how we go about this?"

* * *

 **Not the best chapter, I know. I have a hard time writing fathers, not having one to go by, so I hope I captured Mr. Stone plausibly. And hopefully the quality and frequency of chapters will pick up again once they've gone back in time.**


	7. Burglary and Broken Glass

"Explain to me why we're going in through the janitor's office window?" Mr. Stone whispered to his children.

The three of them were sneaking through the silent, sleeping town, headed for the Aumakua Museum - a large, imposing structure that almost looked out of place among the smaller island buildings. A soft breeze blew dry, dead leaves across the road, rustling and rasping on the pavement, and the full moon cast its haunting glow over the island, painting the town silver with its light.

"Because it's the only one in the entire building that's free of security sensors," Billy answered quietly, peering around a corner before creeping forward again. His father nodded.

"Right." He paused. "And _why_ are we bringing this along?" He briefly brandished the jar of honey he was carrying before hastily stowing it under his jacket again as the moonlight glanced off the shiny plastic.

"It's needed," the young boy answered insufficiently. The archaeologist glared at the back of his son's head.

"Elucidate."

"We need it to break in the window quietly," Billy replied as the small family slunk along in the shadow of the museum wall. "It's a method that Allie read about in some book." Dr. Stone grimaced.

"I really need to get some idea of the kinds of books she's reading if she's picking up burglary tips," he muttered. Unable to see very well in the dark, he stepped on the back of his son's shoe, and Billy stumbled, clacking some loose gravel against the wall.

"Ssh!" Allie turned to glare at them from her position at the front. "Quiet now, we're at the janitor's office," she hissed. Pulling a thick, fluffy washcloth out of her pocket, she unfolded it and drew a knife from her belt. "Honey," she whispered, and her adopted father handed her the jar. Dipping the blade into the sticky sweetness, she smeared a generous amount all over the cloth and plastered it to the window, pressing it firmly against the glass. "Hammer." Billy passed her a small hammer, and she firmly rapped each corner and three spots around the center. "I hope this works," she murmured, handing the hammer back to her brother. Her adopted family peered closely over her shoulders, and all three of them held their breath as she peeled the cloth away. Bits of broken glass clung to the sticky mess, leaving a large, jagged hole in the window.

Identical smiles spread across Billy and Allie's faces, and Mr. Stone released his pent-up breath in a devout sigh of relief. "Thank goodness it worked," he breathed, and gently pushed his children aside, pulling on a pair of leather gloves as he stepped up to the window.

"Dad, let me, my arm is smaller," Billy said in a low voice, but his father smiled slightly and shook his head.

"Absolutely not," he whispered firmly. "I'll do it, I've just got to widen the hole a little more. Allie," he held out his gloved hand, "give me that washcloth."

"It's got honey all over it," the girl murmured, gingerly picking off the broken shards and passing it to her father.

"Doesn't matter, I just need it to muffle the noise." He wrapped the thick cotton cloth around the largest chunk of glass and gave it a solid whack with the hammer Billy handed him. It broke away with the faintest _crack_ , and Dr. Stone carefully reached through the hole, unlatching the window and pushing up the sash. "Alright, everybody in, and watch where you put your hands," he whispered, brushing broken glass off the windowsill.

Allie went first, pulling herself up onto the narrow ledge and swinging her legs through the open window before sliding through into the dark office. "Okay, it's safe to co- Ah!" Her feet slipped as they touched the floor, and she vanished from sight with a startled squeak.

"Allie!" Billy and Mr. Stone hurried over and peered anxiously through the window. "Are you alright? Did you hurt yourself?"

"I'm fine," the girl whispered, standing up and brushing herself off. "Careful though, there's a slick patch right here." She took a few deep breaths, her heart rate slowly returning to normal. "Here, pass me the bag and Faleaka's stick." Billy handed her his ever-present canvas satchel and the smooth walking stick - topped with a beautifully carved eagle - through the window before hoisting himself onto the sill and clambering through.

"Okay Dad, you can come on," he said, turning back toward the window as he slung the large bag over his shoulder again. "Do you think you'll fit?" Mr. Stone shot him a reproving look.

"Of course I'll fit," he answered. "It may be a bit of a squeeze, but it shouldn't be too bad."

It _was_ a bit of a squeeze, but the archaeologist finally managed to wriggle into the small office. They all breathed a collective sigh of relief when he was safely through, and Mr. Stone pulled the broken window shut again. "I feel bad about that," he said under his breath, gesturing at the jagged hole in the glass. "Let's see if we can patch it up somehow."

The children found a few cleaning cloths and some duct tape, and their father layered them up, taping them over the hole. "There, that'll at least keep bugs out 'til tomorrow," he whispered. "Come on now, let's go." He unlocked the door and they all crept out, wincing at the loud skreeking noise the hinges made.

"Somebody needs to invest in some oil," Billy muttered. The other two shushed him, and they all trooped up the maintenance stairs to the main hall as quietly as possible.

"Alright, we're going to have to really keep an eye out now," Allie whispered. "There's probably laser webs and sensors everywhere. Billy, you have the talcum powder?"

Mr. Stone raised an eyebrow. "Talcum powder?" he mouthed. His son ignored him, rummaging in his satchel before producing a bottle full of white powder. He handed it to Allie, who shook some into her palm and tossed it in the air ahead of them. It swirled about in a lazy cloud for a minute before starting to drift downwards.

"All clear," she hissed, and they padded along the hall as silently as possible, keenly aware of the security cameras glaring balefully at them from all directions.

 _'When we get back, we're all going straight to jail,'_ the archaeologist thought ruefully. He watched with faint disapproval as Allie tossed a second handful of the fine white dust into another hallway before starting down it. _'I really do need to pay more attention to the books she reads. She and Billy seem far too comfortable breaking and entering into a high-security building. If I don't watch out, I'll wind up with a right pair of delinquents on my hands.'_

He almost bumped into his adopted daughter as she stopped abruptly. Peering over her head, he saw, through a cloud of talcum, faint, fleeting glimmers crisscrossing the hall ahead of them. "Laser web," he remarked under his breath, and Allie nodded.

"Our first major obstacle," she whispered. "How on earth do we get through it?"

The Stones stood for a moment, staring blankly at the myriad, nigh-invisible beams of light that barred their path, as if they could will them to disappear. There was total silence for a few minutes, heavy with the nervousness emanating from the three burglars, when Billy suddenly slapped a hand to his forehead, making the other two jump.

"Idiot!" he exclaimed quietly. "Moron! Me, I mean. Makala told me ages ago - why didn't I remember it before?"

Formerly one of Mr. Cobb's thugs - before Billy and Allie changed the course of Aumakua history - Makala Umberdoth was one of his father's friends, a former archaeologist who got a job at the museum after suffering a heat stroke during an excavation. He was, as the museum director dryly put it, "a big man with a big heart, but not much to brag about up top." Allie, unable to forget his now nonexistent past, always did her best to avoid him, but Billy had befriended him, and now it seemed that friendship was going to come in handy.

Mr. Stone just hoped it wasn't going to cost the rather dimwitted man his job.

"Just what _did_ Makala tell you?" he asked suspiciously. His son edged along the wall, away from the golden threads of light, and started unscrewing the bolts that held one of the dimly glowing light fixtures to the wall.

"There's an override system to the laser webs, in case something glitched and they wouldn't deactivate," Billy whispered over his shoulder. "He told me the access panel was hidden in the wall behind this light." Lowering the heavy glass globe to the floor, he switched on the flashlight that Allie handed him and scanned the wall in front of him. "Here!" he breathed excitedly, catching sight of two small grooves in the wood. Fitting his fingers into them, he gave a tug, and the access panel swung open, revealing a keypad set into the wall.

Allie brushed her blond hair over her shoulder. "Great!" she whispered, an edge of sarcasm under her tone. "I don't suppose you happen to know the override code?"

"No," Billy answered steadily, "but Makala said it was a four-digit code." He squinted at the keys, holding the light closer. "One...four...seven...and zero," he murmured. His father peered over his shoulder.

"How can you tell?" he asked quietly. The boy was already pressing the buttons, careful to use the back of his fingernail.

"Fingerprints," he replied easily. "Hush now, let me try and crack this."

Luck was with him; he had only tried a few different combinations of the four numbers when a green light flashed on the keypad and the laser beams flickered out. Allie tossed another small cloud of powder into the air to make sure and nodded.

"All clear," she whispered. "Let's go!"

They sped along the hallway to the very end, where their quarry rested on a blue cushion, protected by a bullet proof glass case.

"Alright, Miss Notarbartolo, how do we get to it?" Mr. Stone whispered. "I assume you and young MacLean here have a plan for that?"

Billy looked confused. "What's he talking about?" he whispered to Allie, who rolled her eyes in exasperation.

"Leonardo Notarbartolo was a famous Italian jewel thief," she explained quietly, "an extremely successful one. His downfall was, believe it or not, a half-eaten sandwich he abandoned that contained traces of his DNA. Jack "Superthief" MacLean was an even more famous, successful, and wealthy cat-burglar, who was known for his habit of leaving sarcastic notes at the crime scene and his non-destructive methods of getting to what he wanted - such as lock picking." The archaeologist glared at his son, who had enough decency to look a little ashamed. "He would also shut down alarm systems and security traps, and then turn them back on when he left. If he didn't know how it worked, he'd steal that too, so he could learn about it later."

Mr. Stone ran an agitated hand through his short grey hair. "See, that's exactly the sort of thing you _shouldn't_ know!" he exclaimed in a loud whisper. "I want to know where you learn about all this stuff."

"Dad, now is really not the time," Billy said pleadingly. "We've got to get back a couple of centuries and defeat Cobra. We'll talk when we get back, alright?"

"You better believe we will," his father said firmly. The boy grimaced, and they both turned to Allie, who was kneeling next to the case, gently knocking on it with her knuckles and humming softly.

"The only way we'll get in is if we shatter the glass with sympathetic vibrations," she informed them quietly. "I think..." she tapped the case again, "the note needed here is F sharp above high C."

Billy stared at her blankly, but Mr. Stone nodded understandingly and took a deep breath. Pursing his lips, he whistled a long, sharp note, trying to ignore the dizziness that started to set in. The glass shivered, ringing faintly, and the children tensed with excitement.

"That's it, Dad!" Allie exclaimed softly. Mr. Stone paused to take a breath, then resumed, and the case shook harder. Without breaking his note, he grabbed Billy and Allie and pushed them behind him, covering most of his face with his hands.

Just as he thought he would pass out from lack of proper oxygen intake, there was a magnificent crash as the bullet proof case exploded in a shower of shattered glass. The two children cheered quietly and rushed forward, but their father's hands on their shoulders stopped them. The archaeologist turned, ignoring Billy's whispered "Dad, what are you doing?" and looked squarely at a security camera that was quietly monitoring events from the corner of the room.

"Honesty," he stated, clearly and firmly, "is always the best policy. You probably already know who I am, but I want to make sure of that." Pulling the flashlight from his son's canvas bag, he switched it on and shone it on his face. "I'm Dr. Micheal Stone, and I am borrowing without permission - stealing, if you like - King Huko's medallion. I don't condone what I'm doing, but my family is in great need of it, and I will take full responsibility if, for some unforeseen reason, I am unable to return it." He paused, then gave a small nod. "That's it," he said simply, and turned back to the golden amulet still lying on the cushion.

Billy and Allie glanced at each other, then stepped forward, facing the camera side by side. "I'm Billy Stone-"

"-and I'm Allie Stone-"

"-and we're involved in this theft too," the boy said loudly. "We will all protect the medallion to the best of our ability and return it as soon as we can, and if something happens to it, my sister and I will be as responsible as our dad. Just thought you should know that." The boy glanced over his shoulder guiltily. "Oh, and I'm really sorry about all the broken glass." They looked at each other again and returned to their father, who swept them both into a tight hug.

"I'm so proud of you two," he said muffledly, then gave them a brief squeeze and released them. "Now let's go, before Billy disappears into nothingness." Allie picked up the magic amulet and passed it to her best friend, who dropped the cord over his head. The familiar weight was somehow comforting, and he felt a tension he didn't even know he had ease out of his shoulders. He allowed a small smile to touch his lips as he took his family's hands and lifted his chin.

"I wish..."

A moment later, the only indication that the burglars were ever there was an empty cushion and a layer of shattered glass littering the floor.

* * *

In a shimmering blue glow and a quick shower of sparks, the three Stones appeared on the bank of the river. A hot, bright, noonday sun glared down at them, dazzling their eyes, and the sudden change of terrain caught them off balance.

Still disoriented from the abrupt journey, they never saw the three wooden darts - the tips smeared with a primitive knockout drug - that flew out of the trees and struck them in their necks.

* * *

 **Gaaaah, I am SO GLAD I've finished that chapter! 0_0 (I kind of hate it. XD) It's probably not plausible in the slightest, but I've never tried to burgle a museum before, nor have I ever studied the science of resonance and its destructive powers, so it's just going to have to be implausible. -_-  
Also, Makala was the larger of Mr. Cobb's thugs, and Kalani was the shorter, skinnier one. Cobra's trackers were Makawa and Kalanu, respectively. Just wanted to throw that out there, since you probably wouldn't know that unless you've read the novelized version of the movie. ;) I gave Makala the surname of Umberdoth, just because he needed one and it was the first thing that popped into my head. **


	8. The Best Laid Plans of Mice and Men

**I am sooooooo sorry for the late update, guys! D: Inspiration didn't dry up, it just changed, and I started an original story before I finished this chapter. :( But it's here now, if there's even anyone still reading it. XD**

* * *

Ohtara tucked a strand of dark hair behind her ear and swiped a wrist across her sweaty forehead, panting slightly in the heat. Three hours ago, she had been quite happy to vacate the ocean where she'd been fishing, drenched to the skin, buffeted by waves, and half blind from the glare of the sun on the water. Now, as she trudged back and forth from the beach to the storehouses, calves burning and arms screaming for rest, the prospect of standing in one place in the cool sea was heavenly.

Unfortunately, Cobra - and, by extension, his sadistic henchmen - wouldn't allow it. Her current task was to gather and carry provender - mangoes, pineapples, coconuts, papaya, and all manner of other tropical fruit - to the frond storehouses, where elderly slaves sorted them into their proper piles.

The girl paused for a moment, pushing her hair off her forehead and taking deep breaths to steady herself. Exhaustion gnawed at her unmercifully, and her muscles, much like the rest of her, felt like they were on fire. She was so weary that she would have been weeping if she'd had enough moisture left in her body to do so.

"Ohtara." The young woman turned at the sound of her name. Huko was coming towards her, bearing two tall clay jars, filled to the brim with cold river water. He set one down on a nearby stone and offered her the other. "Drink," he said gently. "You look like you're about to drop."

Ohtara accepted the water gratefully, forcing herself to drink slowly. Cool, blessed relief flowed through her, and she felt her strength restored in some small part. "Thank you," she said softly, handing him the jar back, and he nodded.

"Are you alright?" he asked quietly. "All things considered, of course," he added hastily, and the girl couldn't help the small laugh that escaped her.

"In retrospect, yes," she replied with a tiny smile. "I haven't been abused - at least, no more than how we're all abused." Though she said nothing about it, her heart was breaking at the sight of her king forced to carry the heavy water jars to the soldiers and slaves. She knew, from past experience, that it was harsh, taxing, and relentless work, and it was obvious that the guards had assigned the task to the young ruler out of sheer, wicked spite. "And you, Your Highness?"

"I'm fine," Huko assured her with a quick smile, though in truth, he was far from it. The effects of the poison, which had lain dormant for four days, were slowly but surely starting to manifest, and the boy was agonizingly aware of it. Usually impervious to the tropical climate, he found his strength being sapped by the heat, and whenever he was in direct sunlight, he felt as though a naked flame burned along the scratch on his back. His face was flushed under the tan of his cheeks, and his curly hair clung to his damp skin.

Not only was he having trouble with the high temperatures, but the muscles in his shoulders and back would periodically seize up, rendering him almost helpless and preventing him from continuing his work for a few minutes, a situation of which the guards took full malicious advantage.

But his people were still looking to him, and he was determined not to show weakness, either emotional or physical, and especially not in front of Mohea, who, he felt, was a hairsbreadth away from revealing the medallion's location to Cobra in exchange for an antidote - an antidote that Huko strongly doubted the warlord possessed.

And so he bore his sufferings in stoic silence, much like the rest of his people, giving no outward indication of his pain. Ohtara instinctively suspected that he was not as fine as he claimed, but she knew it would do no good to press him.

"Do you suppose there is any hope for us?" she asked in a low voice, fidgeting with the hairs of a coconut.

"There is always hope," Huko answered firmly, with perhaps more conviction than he felt. He put his hand on her shoulder, giving it a brief, comforting squeeze. "Remember Ohtara, as long as there's life, there is always hope." He gave her another smile before hoisting the water jars onto his shoulders again and trudging off.

Ohtara watched him go, her heart a leaden weight in her chest. Despite the young king's reassurances and Mohea's unwavering courage, the young woman feared the Aumakua people would be enslaved to Cobra for the rest of their lives, if this existence could even be called life.

As if to confirm her thoughts, a little girl off to her right - she couldn't be any older than seven or eight - stubbed her toe on a half-buried rock, dropping her basket of provisions with a startled cry. Ohtara was at her side in an instant, helping her up off the ground and brushing sand from her clothes.

"You're alright," she murmured soothingly, handing the little girl her basket. "Come on, let's pick up the fruit before a guard sees."

It was too late. One of the myriad soldiers came storming over, brandishing his switch. "You clumsy wretch!" he berated the little girl, who was wrapped protectively in the others' arms. "Be more careful with our food!" Ohtara stood up, pushing the terrified child behind her and facing the angry man, her heart pounding.

"Don't hurt her, it was my fault. I caused her to stumble," she lied unblushingly, hoping the guard would buy it.

The guard didn't buy it.

"You did nothing to her," he snapped. "Why would you take her punishment?"

"She did nothing to you," Ohtara countered steadily, "why would you punish her?"

Stuck for an answer, he gaped at her a moment, mouthing wordlessly at the upstart islander. The young woman swept him as frigid a look as she could muster and turned away, gently ushering the child ahead of her. The soldier recovered himself and scowled at her back.

"Where do you think you're going?" he demanded, grabbing her shoulder. Frightened, Ohtara tried to twist away.

"Let go of me!"

There was a sharp ripping sound, and the sleeve of her blouse tore away. Cursing, the man flung aside the bright scrap of cloth and grabbed Ohtara's slim arm, raising the bamboo switch threateningly. Eyes wide with apprehension, the young woman held her other arm up as a shield, waiting for the stinging blow to fall.

Sensing danger to the lovely girl, the child pushed aside her fear and launched herself at the guard, pummeling his stomach with her small fists. "Let her go!" she piped, before dropping to the ground and grimly clamping her teeth onto his calf.

Furious beyond measure, the soldier gave a pained howl and pushed Ohtara away, shaking his leg vigorously in a futile attempt to dislodge the clinging, biting little girl. Ohtara scrambled forward, holding her torn blouse up with one hand, and wrapped her free arm around the child's waist, tugging firmly.

"Spit that out, darling!" she cried, trying to pry the little girl off the guard's leg. "You don't know where it's been!" The child finally let go, and the two girls tumbled backwards. The guard clutched his leg, his face creased with rage and pain.

"You'll both pay for that!" he growled, reaching for his curved sword.

"Cease!"

The soldier paused, his blade raised, and three pairs of eyes turned towards the new voice. Cobra, closely followed by the repulsive figure of Zarabua the witch doctor, came striding up, his long-nailed hand resting on the hilt of his machete.

"My lord," the guard murmured, lowering his head and backing up a pace. The warlord's cold, black eyes swept the scene, taking them all in: His henchman, naked sword still held in hand; the two island girls sitting on the ground, watching this new turn of events with dark, fear-filled eyes. His gaze lingered briefly on Ohtara's bare shoulder and ruined blouse, and his head tilted back slightly, his eyes hooding - a sure sign of danger.

"You're here to keep an eye on the slaves and make sure they do their work," he said harshly, addressing the guard without looking at him. "Not to mate with them." The man looked confused.

"My...lord?" He glanced at the tall warlord and followed his gaze to the young woman on the ground. His eyes widened as he put two and two together, and he started stammering. "Oh! No! No, my lord, I wasn't- I didn't- I was only trying to keep her-"

His babbling was cut short as iron-strong fingers locked around his throat, a long nail sliding into the side of his neck. Ohtara, horror stamped on her features, pressed the little girl's face to her bosom as the guard's eyes rolled up in his head and his lifeless body fell to the ground. Without missing a beat, the evil man caught the lovely girl in a similar fashion and drew her to her feet, eyes locked onto hers. Half frozen with terror, Ohtara pushed the child behind her, struggling to draw breath through her constricted windpipe. The warlord's husky voice was cold as steel.

"See how easily I dispose of my own men." The tip of his fang-like nail lightly touched her neck, right at the jugular vein, and he pulled her closer 'til her petrified face was mere inches from his. "Think how much more easily I can dispose of a few disobedient, rebellious slaves." He glanced over her shoulder, his stare resting briefly on the child clinging to her skirt. "No matter how old they are." He returned his unblinking gaze to Ohtara, his eyes relentlessly boring into hers 'til she wanted to scream.

Finally, he released her and stepped back. "Get back to work," he ordered, and stalked off, back straight and head erect, every inch the self-assured ruler. Zarabua scuttled in his wake like some sort of hideous crab, chuckling to himself.

Ohtara stood rooted where he'd left her, feeling as if she'd been doused in ice water. The little girl tugged on her hand. "Are you okay?" she asked, her high, flutey, child's voice laced with concern.

The young woman didn't answer. The world was slowly tilting back and forth around her, and the crash of the surf on the beach mingled with the sounds issuing from the jungle and of the slaves carrying out their tasks, blending together into an indistinct hum.

Then everything blurred and went dark, and she crumpled to the ground in a dead faint.

* * *

As the sun drew its last pale rays over the horizon and sank behind the ocean, turning the waves crimson and dark gold, the Aumakua slaves were finally allowed to cease their labor, rest, and eat. Cobra was not a fool; he knew that without proper nourishment, the islanders would grow sick and weakly, and would be of no further use to him. Consequently, the slaves' supper was barely inferior to the fare provided to the warlord's foot-soldiers: Shellfish stew, large, roasted beetles, coarse, hearty bread, and fresh pineapple juice.

Mohea sank to the ground, cradling her bamboo bowl of stew in her slender hands and allowing her posture to go slack. The day's work had left her completely drained, and if it weren't for the ubiquitous guards keeping a sharp eye on the prisoners to make sure they ate, she would have forfeited sustenance altogether in favor of sleep. Unfortunately, such a thing wasn't permitted.

The young woman dipped one of the beetles into her stew and took a bite, barely noticing the mingled salty and spicy flavor that she usually so enjoyed. Fear, worry, anger, and doubt, mixed with the numbing exhaustion that consumed her, left her bleak and jaded, scarcely able to form a coherent thought. She ate automatically, not really even noticing what she was putting into her mouth. All around her, everything seemed to be progressing on the other side of a misty curtain, through which she could not be bothered to look.

Then a voice cut through the mist - a voice she had almost given up all hope of ever hearing again. "Mohea?"

The island girl raised her head, gasping silently as a familiar blond-haired girl sat down beside her. "Mohea, it's me! We came."

"Allie!" Mohea flung her arms around the younger girl, giving her a welcoming hug, then sat back and stared at her friend. There was a hand-shaped bruise across her left cheek, and another dark bruise encircled her slightly puffy eye. "What happened? Are you alright?"

Allie gingerly touched the shiner. "Yes, I'm okay - relatively," she assured her. "Apparently Cobra doesn't take kindly to being killed, though. We found out that's why he wants the medallion this time - he wanted to wish himself to the future to take revenge on Billy and me. But now that we're here," she sighed, "he's got everything he wants, even without the medallion. And now he's got Dad - I mean, Father - too, to use against us."

Mohea stared at her, completely at sea. "What are you talking about?" she asked, utterly lost. "Where's Billy? And whose father? I thought you were an orphan." The young girl grimaced, taking a bite of bread.

"I've gotten ahead of myself again," she remarked ruefully, tasting the stew. "Billy's father adopted me last year - or what would be last year in our time. We got your message the other day, and we stole the medallion and came back to help you. As for where Billy is," worry shone out of her blue-grey eyes, "I don't know. Cobra chiefly blames him for his defeat last year; he knocked me around a bit and then sent me and Dad out to be slaves, but he kept Billy in his hut, and I haven't seen him since."

"I see." The older girl was quiet a moment, grimly digesting this news. "You say you stole the medallion, which intrigues me greatly, but that will have to wait. Where is it now? Why didn't you use it when you came?"

"That was the plan," Allie replied in a small voice, "but we all got knocked out before we had the chance. I guess some scouts saw us and tranquilized us, or something, because we all woke up here with Cobra standing over us."

Mohea's heart sank. "Then...he has the medallion," she said quietly. It was more of a statement than a question. The other girl nodded, her eyes filling with tears.

"Yes," she whispered. "He has it. And he's got some horrible witch doctor with him who says he can reverse its power, so it serves only evil."

"I know." Mohea rubbed her forehead, trying to ward off the anxiety-induced headache that she knew would come. Her desperate plan was crashing down around her, shattering into a thousand fragments and leaving little hope for the islanders. It had all seemed so simple when she wrote the message - and yet now what was left to show for it? Three more slaves and a cursed medallion for the warlord.

She raised her eyes to Allie, who was trying to eat, but finding it difficult to swallow past the lump in her throat. "Do you have any idea how Cobra survived? How he came back here again?"

"We have a theory about that," the young girl responded, setting aside her bowl. "It was because of Cobra's descendant, Mr. Cobb, that Billy and I came here last year. When Billy defeated Cobra, Mr. Cobb no longer existed in our time; but without him, we couldn't have come back here and killed his ancestor."

Mohea stared at her in consternation. "But you did come back here," she exclaimed. "How else could we know you? I remember everything clearly." She frowned, shaking her head. "You definitely came back."

"Yes, but it's like we didn't- Oh, please don't make me try to explain it!" Allie pleaded. "I don't understand it either. The point is, Cobra's back, and we _think_ he can't be killed for good until he has a son, ensuring-"

"Ensuring that this Mr. Cobb from your time _does_ come into existence so you can have come back here and defeated Cobra in the first place," the islander finished quietly. "Right?" Her companion nodded.

"Right," she affirmed wearily. "It's all so mixed up and complicated. I don't know what to do now, without the medallion or outside help." She slammed her hand against her thigh in frustration. " _We_ were supposed to be the outside help, and all we did was deposit the medallion right into Cobra's lap." Mohea rubbed her shoulder comfortingly.

"It's not your fault," she murmured. "You did what you could, and that's- Wait." Realization struck her like a bolt of summer lighting. "You know how Billy found the medallion from this time after the future version of itself" both girls winced at the muddled up mess of time traveling, "had been destroyed?" Allie frowned.

"Yes...?"

Mohea grabbed her hand, looking excited. "The present medallion wasn't affected by the destruction of the future version, because, as Billy said, you didn't find it for another two hundred years!"

What she was saying dawned on the younger girl, and her blue eyes lit up. "So even if that witch doctor curses the medallion as _we_ had it, we'll still have it from the past - I mean, the present - to use against him!" she whispered, and her friend nodded. Identical smiles broke over their faces, and Allie grabbed Mohea's other hand. "Where is it?"

The smile vanished from the young woman's countenance as suddenly as it had come. "Hidden," she murmured. "And Huko made me promise not to tell _anyone_ where it- Oh no!" she gasped, and her hands flew to her face. "Huko!"

Allie's stomach gave a sick lurch; she grabbed the others' arm, giving it a slight shake. "What?" she hissed urgently. "What happened to him?" Mohea lifted her head, a tragic look shining out of her dark eyes.

"Cobra poisoned him a few days ago," she breathed. "He said he'd administer the cure if I told him where the medallion is. I had my doubts that he actually would, but now that he has the medallion, I _know_ he won't!" She ran her fingers through her hair, clutching at the dark tresses.

Allie felt like she was about to faint. "Huko's life isn't the only one at stake," she said hoarsely. "Billy is his last direct descendant - if Huko dies, my brother will cease to exist!" She squeezed her eyes shut, biting her lip as she struggled to keep from going into hysterics. "We have to save them both," she whispered, half to herself. "But how?"

Mohea took a few deep breaths, forcing her nerves to steady. Her mind, long since passed out of its previous foggy state, was whirling around, seeking and considering and analyzing every possibilty of escape.

"I think," she said quietly, "it's time we made another plan."


	9. A Second Plan & a Sealed Fate

***Crashes through wall onto scene* Nobody panic! 0_0 I'm still alive! 0_0**

 **Seriously, I am soooo sorry for the super-late update. :/ I have no excuse besides my usual one, which you've already heard too many times. So without further ado, doughnuts all around, drinks on the house, and here's another chapter! :D (After nearly two and a half months... :l)**

* * *

"The jungle's no good; it's swarming with Cobra's men. They're especially thick around the place where we were first spotted; I guess they deduced that we hid the medallion there."

Huko rubbed his forehead distractedly, digesting the information with a worried frown."That rather impedes any attempts of escape," he remarked grimly. "With the jungle crawling with soldiers, we're trapped here indefinitely."

A small group of the Aumakua islanders, including Huko, Mohea, and Allie, were gathered under a makeshift canvas lean-to, sheltered to some degree from the nighttime rain that drizzled relentlessly over the island. Mohea had just returned from a clandestine scouting trip - well escorted by the warlord's men, of course - and now the group of compatriots were discussing their options.

Unfortunately, there wasn't much to discuss. It was unanimously concurred upon that slipping away from the village-cum-fort was pointless if it meant smacking right into bands of soldiers scouring the jungle. Clearly, Cobra wasn't taking any chances this time - groups of his lackeys were posted seemingly around every tree and waterfall.

"I suppose all we can do is wait here, try to amass some weapons, and fight from the inside out," Ohtara said disconsolately. It was a pitiful scheme with a thin chance of succeeding, and everyone knew it. Their captor learned from his mistakes, apparently, and all tools that could be used as makeshift weapons were closely monitored. If so much as a single chisel went missing, it would be noted and reported.

There was a long moment of silence as the little gathering contemplated their fate. Then Allie, who had been quiet the entire time, spoke up.

"What about the ocean?"

All eyes turned to the young blond girl, and Huko blinked. "What?"

"The ocean," she repeated. "Mohea said Cobra's men were patrolling the jungle, which, as we've all agreed, lets that out. We'd be too visible running along the beach, so that's out of the question as well. Which leaves," she pointed in the direction of the water, "the ocean."

There was another long moment of silence, heavy with incredulity. One of the village warriors - the late Kani's twin brother, Prai - cleared his throat. "An excellent plan, no doubt," he said, "but it contains just one minor flaw. None of us are amphibious." Allie rolled her eyes.

"I'm aware of that," she responded, exasperated. "That's why we use an air pocket."

More blank stares greeted this statement, and the fourteen year old resisted the urge to bang her head against a tree. "The boats," she elaborated. "You know, the fleet of outrigger canoes Cobra's been having us build for who knows how long now?"

Confused silence. She gave up resisting and thumped her forehead against the trunk of the tree that made up one wall of their lean-to. _'No wonder these people were so easy to conquer!'_

Huko's eyes lit up suddenly, and he gently grabbed her hair, keeping her from bashing her brains out on the tree. "I think I know what she's saying now," he told the others. "But, Allie, how on earth are we supposed to steal one of the boats without getting caught? It's not like we can just plop one over our heads and waltz into the ocean without someone noticing!"

"It's a simple matter of causing a diversion," she answered. "Obviously, we can't steal more than one of the boats, certainly not more than two, so it'll just have to be all of us here, now, who escape. Some outside help is better than none," she pointed out, forestalling Prai as he opened his mouth to protest. "Last time we accomplished it with just four of us."

"Last time, Cobra could not use the medallion," the warrior countered unanswerably _._ "And last time, you had Anui, who could put the guards to sleep with a single drop of those potions he used to concoct. Now, we have neither in our favor."

"What's more," piped up another of the slaves - a young man named Ynaka, who was of an age with Prai, "your father will still be here, with the other older adults, and Cobra's still holding your brother inside the fort somewhere. If you were to disappear, he might punish _them_."

Allie's face closed off, and her eyes grew fearful. Mohea put a comforting arm around the younger girl's shoulder, glaring at Ynaka, and Ohtara whacked him for his blatant lack of tact. Huko frowned at all three.

"We all have family and friends that we will be leaving here," he pointed out. "It's going to be hard on all of us, but if we are to help them, we must go. And we need Allie's brains and knowledge - clearly, she's the only one among all of us that can formulate a decent plan." He rubbed her back gently, his voice softening a trifle as he addressed her. "Cobra knows there would be no point in hurting Billy and your father, Allie. If we manage to escape successfully, he'll need them as leverage against you, and as long as he keeps them alive, there's a chance we can rescue them."

Prai shifted position, chewing his lip as if he were suppressing a desire to inject his opinion. The sharp eyed young king didn't fail to notice.

"Prai? Have you something to say?" The warrior inclined his head briefly.

"Yes, my king," he answered. "Look here, everyone, I hate to be the one to always bring up what could go wrong, but the fact remains that Cobra still has the medallion, and that cursed witch doctor reversed its power. What is to prevent him from wishing us back - or dead - as soon as he discovers we're gone?"

Mohea spoke up. "That's a chance we're going to have to take," she said firmly. "We're all going to die eventually - at least if Cobra wishes us dead, it might be quick and painless, unlike our future at the hands of him and his sadistic henchmen. Besides," she added, "he has not yet used the medallion for anything, which, don't you think, is rather strange?" She looked at them all very pointedly, and Huko nodded in agreement.

"It is," he confirmed. "Perhaps the medallion's power has not been reversed at all? Or perhaps it has been disabled altogether?" He looked around the small gathering. "There must be a good reason he has not used it yet, and we had better use that to our advantage before he figures out what the problem is, if indeed there is one." Ynaka blinked.

"Meaning, your Highness?"

 _"Meaning,"_ Mohea answered, glaring at him again, "we need to escape while we have the chance."

"I was asking King Huko," he returned hotly, and tension filled the enclosed space as the two young adults glowered at each other, before Prai sternly tapped them both on the shoulder.

"Fight among ourselves, and we might as well try to assassinate Cobra in broad daylight while surrounded by guards," he admonished. "I suggest you nip it in the bud before it develops further, and listen to Allie and the king."

Mohea and Ynaka murmured half-hearted apologies to each other, and attention was once again turned to their leader. Huko was absentmindedly tugging one of his curls, lost in deep thought, and completely unaware of the minor scrap that had almost broken out. Everyone remained respectfully silent, waiting for him to speak.

"If we could steal the version of the medallion he's got," he said abruptly, "he would doubtless double the number of men he's got searching the jungle, and while that would further impede us, it wouldn't be as bad as that kind of power being in his hands." He looked up at his people, still frowning thoughtfully. "If that witch doctor has, indeed, corrupted it somehow, it would have to be destroyed," he said slowly. "I wouldn't know how to change it back, and it must be kept from him at all costs."

"That's assuming we manage to steal it in the first place," Allie stated, almost apologetically. "We tried that before, remember, and it didn't work so well. You almost got burned at the stake, and Billy nearly went into the fire pit with Cobra."

Huko acknowledged this with a grimace, but Ohtara stirred impatiently.

"We're going to have to assume a lot of things if we're going to pull this off," she declared, her normally soft voice firmer than usual. "We can't just sit around here forever, speculating about this and that, if we're going to make a break for it before Cobra decides to put his newly acquired power to use." She pointed a slender, brown finger at Allie. "You said a diversion is needed to aid in our escape; that means one of us will have to remain behind. It will be nigh impossible to steal the medallion and get away with it, but truthfully, we don't even need to steal it, we just need to destroy it. Now, suppose _that_ is the diversion?" She glanced around at the minute convocation, all of whom were hanging onto her every word as she continued to outline her plan. "We've learned something very useful in our captivity: Cause trouble on the beach, and all the guards within seeing and hearing distance will convene to subdue it. The louder the ruckus, the more guards will come. Cause enough commotion, and Cobra himself will come to investigate." The young woman tapped the moist ground for emphasis. "Whether the medallion works for him or not, he is never without it now. Whoever stays behind to cause the diversion will have to yank it off his neck and destroy it, with whatever they happen to have in hand at that very second. At the very least, throw it into the ocean. By that time, all attention will be focused in the one spot, and the rest will be able to sneak away under the boat."

Everyone was quiet for a moment as they all considered her words. It seemed like it should work, but...

"You realize whoever stays behind to destroy the medallion will probably be killed on the spot?" Allie said in a subdued voice. Ohtara swallowed, but nodded.

"Yes," she replied quietly. "I had considered that. And that's why I'll be the one to stay behind."

There was immediate protest from all present, but she halted them with an upraised hand. "No, listen! I am the only logical choice. Allie is needed, as my lord said, for her brains and knowledge. She is from the future, she knows things that we do not, things that can be used against Cobra and his men. Prai, you and Ynaka can fight; you are the oldest and, undoubtedly, the strongest among us. Mohea, too, is quite the warrior when she puts her mind to it, and everyone knows there's no better metalworker." She smiled fondly at her friend, whose dark eyes glistened with unshed tears. "And we all know why King Huko cannot stay behind. Which leaves me." She paused, glancing around at the other five. "What use could I be, anyway? I am not a fighter, I do not think I could kill anyone, not even the soldiers. Nor am I particularly adept at being stealthy. I am no good at making weapons, and even worse at wielding them." Ohtara shook her head, her long, dark hair swinging around her face. "No, my friends, I will stay behind, cause a distraction, and, if at all possible, destroy the medallion."

Silence fell yet again, broken at last by Huko. "Alright then. Ohtara will stay," he said tiredly, rubbing a weary hand across his face. Mohea let out a strangled sob, and Prai's jaw worked, as if he were chewing on a diatribe he longed to throw at the younger boy.

"King Huko, please," he said, his voice carefully respectful. "You surely cannot be considering this? To leave her behind-"

"Do not think it is easy for me to condemn one of my people to death," Huko snapped, "particularly a female. But neither can I condemn the rest of them out there, men, women, and children alike! They need help, and we are all the help they will get." He pressed his palm to his forehead, staring down at the dirt between his knees. "Sacrifices will have to be made, and some of us will die. That is the ugly truth of it; we cannot escape it."

Allie glanced quickly between the two young men, noted the warrior's expression, and hastily changed the subject in an attempt to alleviate the building tension. "Then I guess the only question remaining is...where do we go?" She glanced around the group, looking for suggestions. After a minute of pondering, Ynaka tentatively raised his hand.

"There's the caves under the cliffs, about half a mile south from here," he suggested, but Huko shook his head.

"Those caves fill with water at high tide, we'd be trapped like birds in a cage."

"Or people in a snow globe," Allie muttered. Huko looked at her inquiringly, but she merely gave her head a small shake. "Irrelevant."

The young king shrugged and returned to the problem at hand. "We need somewhere hidden, easily defended, and within walking distance - underwater walking distance, that is." He paused, clenching his teeth as a tongue of flame raced across the cut on his back. No one seemed to notice the brief spasm of pain that crossed his face, and he continued, barely missing a beat. "Unfortunately, I don't think such a place exists. Would anyone else happen to have any ideas?"

The six conspirators reflected for a moment, frowning intensely as they all considered and discarded possibilities, one by one.

"There's always Cobra Island," Mohea said suddenly. Everyone looked at her in shock, but she stared them down with a quiet kind of stubbornness. Huko propped his chin on his fist, mulling it over.

"It's possible," he admitted thoughtfully. "Not much edible vegetation grows there, but there's animals we could hunt for food. Easily defended, too - we could build some ballistas on the mountainside, and there's plenty of rocks and boulders to be used. Yes!" He clapped his hands together, warming to the plan. "It's an excellent idea! We can use the forges in the caves beneath the old lair to craft weapons, and there's plenty of metal ore that can be mined. It's ideal!"

"Not to mention it's the last place in the world Cobra would expect us to go," Allie added excitedly.

"I hate to throw cold water on your euphoria - again," Prai interjected, "but what happens when Cobra decides he wants to go home, and it's five of us against an army of them?"

"Ballistas," the blond haired girl reminded him. "Catapults. And failing that, we can always make longbows and arrows and pick them off from the mountainside, out of range of their little crossbows." The tall, handsome warrior crossed his arms, nodding.

"Fair enough. But what about getting there. We can't walk underwater all that way!"

"Won't have to." All eyes swiveled to the Aumakua king, like spectators at a tennis match. "Cobra Island lies on the opposite side of our island. We've just got to walk northwest from here 'til we reach those large rocks that lie between the islands; then we can surface and paddle the outrigger the rest of the way. If this rain continues like this, we won't be visible from the beach here." He looked around at them all, proud and strong, and seeming much older than his fifteen years. "It's our only chance. Are we all agreed?"

There was a collective murmur of assent, and Allie leaned forward. "Right, then. Tomorrow may be our best chance; we've all got to be on the beach, crafting the outriggers, and all nearby each other. When," she swallowed hard, trying to ignore the lump that rose in her throat, "when Ohtara starts making a commotion, be ready to get to one of the canoes, as quickly and unobtrusively as you can."

They all nodded, but Ynaka noticed Huko sitting stiffly, his face rigid. "King Huko? Are you alright?"

The boy's lips scarcely moved as he spoke. "Mohea, you lead the others to Cobra Island. I'll meet you there as soon as I'm able."

Mohea looked startled, and slightly frightened. "Where are you going?" The young king flinched, his hands balling into fists as the blazing pain on his back reached an almost unbearable crescendo before subsiding into a dull throb.

"I'm going to try to make it to Faleaka's hut; perhaps I can find something there to neutralize this-" His sentence was left hanging as the poison sent another tongue of fiery agony across the scratch. He locked his teeth together, sweat trickling down his temples as he fought the cry of pain rising in his throat. The other five were looking at him with varying degrees of concern or terror.

"We will not go without you, your Highness!" Prai declared, but Huko shook his head vehemently, still unable to speak. Mohea, though the look in her eyes plainly said she agreed with Kani's brother, stepped in.

"He's right, we can't all go with him. Five people are more easily tracked than one." She pried one of her friend's fists open and took his hand, allowing him to squeeze her palm as the poison's effect once again peaked before simmering down. "But, Huko, you cannot go alone. Let me go with you." The king shook his head again.

"No," he gasped, gradually relaxing his iron grip on her hand. "I leave you in charge, Mohea. If something happens to me, you will be Aumakua's new leader." He considered a moment, still panting slightly. "You, Prai, and Ynaka go on to Cobra Island. Allie and I will meet you there as soon as we can." He looked at the youngest girl present. "If you are willing to come with me, that is."

"Of course I'm willing," Allie answered, though her heart pummeled at the thought of sneaking through the soldier-infested jungle. "I'm no doctor, but I've read about medicine. Maybe we can find something to help you." Huko nodded once.

"Then that's it, I believe. We'd all best get some sleep."

"Wait. There's one more thing we need to do." Everyone looked at Mohea, who took Ohtara's hands, tears spilling down her beautiful face.

"We need to say goodbye."


End file.
